


Not a Romance Novel

by heeroluva



Category: Captain America (Movies), Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Developing Relationship, Dimension Travel, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-01 18:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20262721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: Hearing the sound of approaching horses, Bucky stops cutting wood and swings his axe over his shoulder easily, giving a whistle to let the children know to make themselves scarce until he tells them otherwise.





	Not a Romance Novel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/gifts).

Hearing the sound of approaching horses, Bucky stops cutting wood and swings his axe over his shoulder easily, giving a whistle to let the children know to make themselves scarce until he tells them otherwise. His hair is long and partially braided by the little girls trying out their skills, his beard is longer than he’s ever had it, and his clothes are more threadbare than not, but it’s the children’s comfort that matters most.

Bucky seems to have the most wonderful luck, having fallen through a portal and woken up in a world that definitely wasn’t his own. He doesn’t recognize any of the spoken languages, which is saying something given that he speaks more than a dozen, and can at least recognize dozens more. The map he manages to find is completely foreign to him, and the giant wolf larger than a packhorse is what finally seals the deal that this definitely isn’t Earth.

It easy enough to steal supplies, arm himself, to blend in, to learn. It’s what he does best, what he’d been trained for. It’s very clear that there’s a war of some sort going on, and while he’d have much preferred a gun, this world seems to be several centuries before their invention, so he makes due with blades. Swords aren’t his favorite, but he’s at least proficient with them.

He’s been here a little over a year now, and even though the war that had ravaged this land had come to an end six months past, children are still finding their way here. He’d certainly never meant to set up an orphanage, but somehow that’s what he’d done.

Standing ready, he waits for the horses to break the tree line, wondering who it would be this time. Bandits had finally gotten the hint to stay away. But it’s not bandits that seek him out today. No, if he was a betting man, he’d say that this was the Queen of the North herself, Sansa Stark, accompanied by a wag and a dozen guards. Why is she seeking him out?

He watches silently as the group comes to a stop, Sansa dismounting her own horse without aid.

Bucky remains silent as she approaches, looking at him curiously, eyes freezing for a moment on the metal of his hand not hidden by his jacket before they rise again to his face.

“My lady,” he greets, not certain what etiquette is expected here.

Sansa’s smile is amused. “You seem to recognize me, but I know you not, sir, except as a stranger who resides on my lands. Tell me your name.”

“Bucky Barnes, ma’am,” Bucky says as he lowers the ax, causing the men behind her to tense as he sets it on the ground.

“Your name is unfamiliar and strange, and I’ve never heard that accent before. From where are you, sir?”

“Pardon me, ma’am, but I don’t recall. I woke up here one day, knowing nothing of my past, and didn’t even speak the language.”

“You speak it quite well. How did you learn?”

“The children help me.”

“What children?”

“The war orphans.” Bucky makes a sound and it doesn’t take long for nearly two dozen children to arrange themselves behind him, looking on at the strangers with distrust.

Meya is four years old and doesn’t have a shy bone in her body. She wastes no time in walking up to Sansa and tugging on her dress. “You hair is really pretty, lady.”

Sansa smiles as she kneels down before the little girl, uncaring that she’s dirtying her gown. “Thank you, sweet girl. Might I know your name?”

Meya giggles as she reaches out to touch it. “You talk funny. I’m Meya, and I’m four years old,” she says as she holds up four fingers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Meya. Tell me, what do you think of Bucky?”

“He stinks sometimes, and makes me take baths, and eat vegetables, but he holds me when I’m scared, and reads me stories, and keeps the monsters away.”

“Monsters?”

“Bandits,” Bucky clarifies. “They see one man and think I’m an easy target.”

“But you’re not,” Sansa says, reading the situation well.

“But I’m not,” Bucky repeats.

“If you remembered nothing, then who choose your name?”

“It came with me, ma’am,” Bucky says as he fishes out his dog tags, pulling them over his head before he hands them to her.

“The markings are unfamiliar. You can read them?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, very strange. If I may, I would like to make a copy of them to send to the Citadel to have examined, see if they have come across it before.”

“Of course,” Bucky agrees readily, curious if others from his world have found their way here. “Would you like to come inside? I apologize, I don’t have much to offer, but there is some stew simmering.”

“You are a stranger here, yet you do much for these children. Tell me your heart’s desire, and I will see it done.”

“You.” The words leaves Bucky’s mouth before he thinks.

“You dare—” One of the guards steps forward, and in an instant all the guards have their hands on their swords.

“Enough!” Sansa says, and while her guards don’t look happy, they do as she orders.

“Apologies, ma’am,” Bucky says. “No disrespect was meant. I spoke without thinking. Please forget it. What I meant to say is that any aid you can give would be appreciated.” He doesn’t tell her in front of the children that their stores are running painfully low with the days growing shorter and colder. He’s traveled as far as he dares in search of game and edible plants, but what he’s found lately has been meager.

Sansa studies him for a long moment before turning and motioning towards the wagon. The cover is removed revealing more food than Bucky has seen in a long time, along with other essential supplies, clothing, and toys.

The children cheer and rush forward, clamoring over the cart in excitement, and Bucky can’t even find it in him to be annoyed by their rudeness and smiles softly at their joy. “Thank you. This is more than I could have hoped for.”

“No thanks is needed. This is the least I can do for my people. In trying to rebuild and prepare for the Winter, I was remiss in thinking about our most vulnerable population. I lost most of my family to this war, but I know my experience was not unique. You have my thanks, sir.”

Sansa stays the afternoon, speaking to each of the children, promising to visit again soon. Bucky pretends he doesn’t notice the way his heart speeds up at the prospect of seeing her again. He’s certain that it’s just his imagination that her eyes linger on him for much longer than is proper before she mounts her horseand rides away.

For a time after that, Sansa visits at least once a fortnight, and finally she’s able to convince him to move to Winter town after the first snowfall, the impracticality of his situation finally made clear. He hates being so close to so many others, barely sleeping the first week there as he worries for the children. But they’re happier than he’s seen in a long time, and a spike of guilt hits him as he realizes how much he’d isolated them.

Sansa sends aid, women who help with the cooking and cleaning, and Bucky finds himself with more free time than he knows what to do with.

One evening Sansa invites Bucky to the Great Hall to join her people for a meal. Despite the month he’s lived in Winter town, he’s still not well trusted, still a stranger to these people. He ignores the looks shot his way, and eats the food, better than anything he’s able to cook, and drinks enough mead to warm his stomach. He glances up at Sansa who sits at the head table in conversation with her sister and after a moment she meets his eyes and gives him a warm smile.

A sudden sound, out of place, draws his attention, and Bucky’s body moves, snatching the knife thrown at Sansa out of the air before sending it back towards his owner, the man falling dead. It’s only then that the hall erupts into chaos, guards converging on Sansa, pulling her away, while others surround him.

Bucky doesn’t fight them, just holds up his hands.

It’s Sansa’s voice who breaks through the chaos. “Enough! This man saved my life. Take him to my study. Clean up this mess, and find out who that man was and how he got in here.”

Bucky follows the guard who bids him follow, and is left alone for nearly an hour before Sansa joins him. He’s never seen her look so tired, and a part of him wants nothing more than to take her in his arms and protect her from this world, but he knows that such advances won’t be welcome.

“It seems I owe you my thanks once more. That was a rather impressive show. I didn’t even see you move.” She looks at him expectantly, clearly wanting an explanation.

Bucky knows that it would be easy to lie, but he’s tired of lying, and before he can consider the consequences, the words begin to spill out.

Surprisingly, she seems to believe him, interrupting only occasionally to ask for clarification or help him when he stumbles, not having the words. When he finishes, she looks pensive as she takes his hand in her own across the desk. “My brother is a seer. He told me that a winter soldier would come to my lands, and depending on my choices he would be either my closest friend or my greatest enemy. Are you this winter solider?”

Bucky’s stricken by her words, the name that he’d thought he’d left behind. “That was a name given to me once, yes. I’m not that man anymore.”

“And you are my friend.”

Bucky brings her hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles, watching the way her cheeks darken slightly, the way she licks her lips. “Yes, Sansa. I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

If Bucky lived in some sort of romance novel, this is when she would have thrown herself at him, but their relationship is a slow burn, and when they marry several years later, all anyone could say to that was “What took you so long?”


End file.
